The spicy italian sammiches from Subway are the closest thing to actual food I usually get, but this week the wife sent me off with some of her most excellent homemade chili, which has helped improve my gustatory lot a good deal.

The combination therof has also done some things to my dreams as well.

Last night I dreampt that Alton Brown was staying in the hotel, and he brought a whole kitchen with him, in the form of a specially modified motor home. I got to sit in his mobile kitchen while he made couscous for the entire hotel.

Dork Turban, the wonderful scumbag from illinois, was actually here last week, and I tried to get Alton to poison him, but he wouldn’t compromise his food, for which I didn’t blame him.

On the other hand, Alton said, “if you can get him close enough I’ll stuff him in the Robot Coupe” (wherin he pointed to a blixer the size of a trash can, apparently a gift from Alton’s wife). He was apparently trying to rid himself of the implement, since he looked upon it as the ultimate unitasker and would have none of it.